Evening Falls
by coffeeandquills
Summary: Though he doesn't believe it just quite yet, Thranduil may in fact find love among these Silvan elves and rise to protect Mirkwood as its king. It begins in the Second Age through the War of the Ring. I'll update as much as possible!
1. Chapter 1: The Founding

***Disclaimer: I don't own the characters or places; they belong to the Tolkien estate. I've tried to be as accurate to the lore as possible, with a little artistic license. Please let me know if I got something wrong. You can copy or spread this around as much as you like, but please give credit where credit is due! :) Enjoy!

**Evening Falls**

**Chapter One: The Founding**

Thranduil stared ahead with a blank expression across his flawless features. Though he was the prince of this so-called Greenwood, he sat at the very last place at the table. Apparently, since he was not king yet, his status was of no consequence to the other elves. In addition, his father had advised him to keep silent during this meeting and only listen. His ideas were of the same worth as his current social ranking.

Meanwhile, the king perched at the head of the massive council table. Though his posture was very formal, he looked at ease among the other elves. Thranduil felt as out of place as a dwarf aboveground. He straightened his posture to be more like his father's, though he was sure that he didn't look quite so comfortable.

Representatives from three different peoples sat around the massive table, a sanded and lacquered tree stump. The roots gnarled and twisted outwards, providing ample leg room and natural seats. He recognized his own Sindarin people—they were friends of his father, after all—but he was a little intimidated by the Quenya elves that had joined the council. They were beautiful, aloof, and wise, even by Elven standards. He didn't pay much attention to those Silvan elves in the group. They appeared to him harsh and wild next to their Sindarin and Quenya brothers.

Thranduil clasped his hands in his lap, wondering when negotiations would be over. They'd all been meeting every day for weeks now. He hadn't had to attend the first several meetings; he only started coming when the council declared Oropher to be the ruler of the realm.

"How do you propose to unite our two peoples then, My Lord?" an elf by name of Fanor asked, leaning towards Oropher. Candlelight glinted off the silver circlet he wore. "Though we are not quite so different from you as we are from the Quenya, we are still far removed. My people might not be quick to recognize your leadership." Though his tone was friendly, Thranduil saw the hardness in his eyes.

"Fanor, you led the council to believe that the Silvan elves would be perfectly accepting of a Sindarin ruler. That is why we chose Oropher as king. Are you going back on your word?" Lord Celeborn asked, taking the hand of his wife, the Lady Galadriel.

Fanor's grey eyes darted to look at Celeborn. "My Lord, you misunderstand me. My people have no great love for the High Elves, but a Sindarin is preferable to a Quenya. Oropher is a fine choice. I am only hoping that my people will see it that way as well, and not as being ruled by an outsider."

"He speaks the truth," Galadriel said, her voice like a crystal dagger. Wavy blond hair fell like a cascading waterfall down her back, mingling with her bejeweled white gown. "And his concern is valid. Though the Silvan elves will be more accepting of a Sindarin elf, they are still wary of any of the High Elves. We must find a more permanent solution to bind the two cultures."

"What kind of solution do you have in mind, My Lady?" Oropher asked with a deferential nod towards Galadriel.

She glanced at her husband, a tiny smile forming on her lips and starlight shining in her eyes. "There is no bond more eternal and sacred than the covenant of marriage."

All eyes turned to Thranduil. The sudden attention made him feel like his skin was on fire. He looked right back at them, his face still expressionless. They weren't really suggesting _that_, were they? Surely the High Elves had more important concerns…

"What do you say, young Thranduil?" Fanor asked.

Thranduil blinked. "I…I am not sure I understand," he said finally. He looked at his father, wide-eyed and silently pleading for help.

Oropher laced his fingers together, carefully resting his entwined hands on the tabletop. "My son, we are suggesting that you marry an elf of Silvan descent."

Thranduil noticed that his father had said "we." That meant that his father agreed that he should marry a Silvan girl. Panic rose in Thranduil's stomach like the wind over a mountainside. He had left his home in Lindon, become a prince of Greenwood, and now he was expected to marry? It seemed like too much to expect of one person in such a tiny sliver of time.

But he swallowed his fear and apprehension, as his father had instructed him. A good ruler never reveals his true thoughts, his father had said. "A marriage between Sindarin and Silvan elves would bind the two peoples forever. I…I suppose I have no choice but to agree."

The elves all turned back to their discussion, seemingly satisfied with that answer. Now that he had agreed, they no longer had any interest in him. Thranduil thought this a little unfair, but he reminded himself that they were building a civilization. They only cared about him so far as it concerned their new land.

"It is settled then," Celeborn said. "Oropher shall rule as king alongside his wife, the queen. Once he comes of age, the prince Thranduil shall be wed with a Silvan maiden. I believe that is enough discussion for one evening. Let us retire. We shall convene again tomorrow morning with the Lord Gil-Galad to discuss borders and boundaries. Farewell."

With that, all the elves around the table rose and retreated to their quarters. Thranduil was the last to leave, as he was the least important in the room. He was grateful that the meeting had ended so quickly. He didn't know how much longer he could sit there with the knowledge of his impending marriage hanging over his head.

He wandered through the unfamiliar halls of the palace. He hadn't been there quite long enough to learn the layout. Back home, he could run through the house blindfolded and still find his way. Not here. At least, not yet. He supposed he'd get to know this place even better than his old home.

He finally located his quarters. It still didn't feel like it belonged to him, but even he had to admit that it was beautiful. There was a large, round bed pushed up against the left wall. The headboard was a tangle of smoothed interwoven branches and milky stones. Across the bed lay a rich burgundy bedspread embroidered with silver, and pillows filled with the softest down were piled high. On one side of his bed, there was an end table made of a lacquered tree stump. He had stacked some of his leather-bound books on top of it. A massive candelabra that matched the headboard stood on the other side of the bed, the flickering candles dripping puddles of wax.

His tiled floor was littered with leaves, courtesy of the massive open balcony that made up the far wall. He currently had the filmy white curtains drawn to let in the air. Near the balcony, there was a small table and two high-backed chairs. Across from the bed was the rest of his furniture. He had been provided with a chest of drawers, a wardrobe, and several bookcases that he found insufficient for his maps and volumes.

Upon entering his room, he took a deep breath through his nose. The air smelled fresh and clean. It relaxed him. He shut his door and walked straight on to the balcony. Though the sun had already set, he could see the faint glimmers of light from people's homes. Several large trees guarded his balcony, the sturdy branches well within reach. The temptation proved too much for Thranduil. He swung himself up onto the nearest branch, stepping lightly towards the trunk.

He scaled the tree like he was walking up a staircase. He shimmied up the smaller branches at the top, the ones that would normally break. He poked his head above the canopy, perched on one branch while his arm wrapped languidly around another.

He gazed upwards, at the bright points of starlight shining down. He recognized the celestial bodies and constellations easily. He felt at peace, looking at the stars. They were the same stars that shone over Lindon. If they could shine over Greenwood too, maybe it was a good enough place to call home.

He didn't know how long he stayed up there, watching the stars. He felt the familiar tugging at his very heart and soul, a longing for the lands beyond. Someday. Someday, he would make the journey that all elves must. But it would not be any time soon.


	2. Chapter 2: The Feast

**Chapter Two: The Feast**

His father was not pleased at how much time he had spent lingering up in the trees. The celebratory feast was supposed to start soon, and Thranduil was far from ready. He slipped out of his plainer clothing and changed into his feast clothes, a shimmery silver tunic with a high collar, grey leggings, and soft leather riding boots.

When he had finished, Oropher strode in. He took long steps, hands clasped firmly behind his back. His back was straight and he held his chin high. Oropher looked very noble to Thranduil; he had assimilated into his new position easily.

He was dressed in floor-length silver robes which glittered in the dim candlelight. Over that, he had a burgundy crushed velvet cloak that trailed behind him as he walked. And, of course, he wore the crown of Greenwood. It was comprised of thorny interwoven sticks jutting straight up around his head, with reddish leaves woven throughout.

He circled his son appraisingly. "Very nice," he finally said. "But not suitable for the crown prince." He snapped his fingers, and a servant girl carrying a large decorative wooden box came into the room. She bowed her head deferentially at the two of them, setting the box on the table.

Oropher ran his fingers over the surface, unlatching it and popping it open. Several ornate pieces of jewelry rested on velvety cushions. "These are for you, my son, given to us by the Silvan elves."

Thranduil looked at the jewels in wonder. He had never owned anything so beautiful before. He slid on a thick golden ring that looked like a snake was coiling around his finger. He pinned spidery silver brooch set with a fat topaz at the base of his collar.

His father lifted the last piece from the box, a thin silver circlet inlayed with tiny topaz stones. Thranduil bowed his head so his father could put it on. "There," Oropher said, a hint of pride in his voice. "Now you look like a true prince of the elves."

"Thank you, Ada."

Oropher smiled, resting a hand on his son's shoulders. "Come now. We shall be late for the feast." He swept out of the room, Thranduil following closely behind.

"Where is mother?" he asked. "Surely she is accompanying us?"

"Gwaereneth is waiting for us outside the ballroom." After a short pause, Oropher continued, saying, "Thranduil, there is something you must know about Silvan feasts. The Silvan elves are very fond of parties, and especially fond of their drink. As a prince, you shall be expected to keep up with them." He gave his son a sidelong glance. "Do you think you are up to the task?"

"Of holding my drink? Of course, Ada. I am not a child," Thranduil said, trying not to sound too annoyed.

"Very well."

They turned a corner into a large antechamber. Gwaereneth stood in the center of the room, turning to face them as they entered. Her lips spread into a smile. "Fit for a feast indeed," she said, quirking an eyebrow. She approached Thranduil, placing both hands on his shoulders and giving him a peck on the cheek. "You look very handsome, my son."

Thranduil smiled back at her. "Thank you, Amme."

Gwaerenth turned to her husband, still smiling. "And you as well, my dearest one."

He smiled back at her, his stoic expression fading. The warmth between his parents was undeniable. "You are so beautiful, one might mistake you for a fallen star," he said, taking her hand.

She laughed, clear and musical. "You flatter me. But, come. We shall be late to this feast." Hands still entwined, his parents led the way towards the main hall, where the feast awaited. Thranduil followed behind.

His father was right; his mother did indeed look like starlight incarnate. Her white gown sparkled and shimmered as light reflected off the embellished jewels. Her skin was as pale and clear as a harvest moon, her cornsilk hair weaved into elaborate braids and dotted with gems.

They walked through the massive carved doors, a hush descending over the banquet hall. Fanor stood from his seat at one of the tables, arms spread wide. "Welcome, Lord Oropher and Lady Gwaereneth, king and queen of Greenwood the Great!"

All the elves raised their glasses, Oropher and Gwaereneth bowing their heads. Together, they took their seats at the head of the first table. Thranduil joined them, taking the chair beside his mother.

Thranduil had never been to such a grand feast before. He had been to many a formal dinner, but not one so grand as this. Not only were all the Quenya and Sindarin ambassadors present, but Silvan elves had gathered in droves. The tables were laden with food of all sorts, servants bustling back and forth to ensure that everyone's glasses were always full. Musicians played harps and flutes off to the side, a wide open space in the middle of the room leaving room for people to dance.

A servant placed a plate in front of Thranduil. "Thank you," he said, glancing up at him.

"My Lord," he replied, bobbing his head.

Oropher picked up his goblet of wine, pinching the stem delicately. He stood up. Everyone quieted down, all eyes on him. "I would like to propose a toast," he began, "to our new land. Greenwood the Great has been plagued by the filth Sauron for far too long. I promise that, as king, I will work to protect the forest and its people from the dark powers beyond. But tonight, we celebrate and forget our troubles, if only for a time. To Greenwood!"

Everyone thrust their glasses in the air, crying, "To Greenwood!"

Oropher took a deep drink and sat back down.

Thranduil only took a sip. He had never had proper wine before. He liked the flavor. It was bitter, and fruity. He nibbled his food, listening the conversations and laughter around him. As the night progressed, the music grew rowdier. Elves that weren't eating were dancing. Thranduil, however, was content to sit back and sip on his drink.

Oropher eventually left to mingle, leaving Gwaereneth and Thranduil by themselves. Thranduil had lost count of how many cups he'd emptied. Every time he finished his glass, a full one seemed to appear right in front of him. Warmth had spread through his entire body, his mind feeling just a bit fuzzy.

"How was the meeting today, Thranduil?" Gwaereneth asked, looking at her son.

He set down his drink. "It was very interesting, I must say. Father and the other elves decided that the best course of action would be for me to marry one of the Silvan elves."

Gwaereneth's eyebrows arched. "Is that so? What reason did they give?"

"They believe it will better bind the two peoples into one kingdom."

Gwaereneth nodded. "There is wisdom in that."

"Wisdom maybe, but no consideration."

"I would not be so quick to judge," she said, taking a sip from her glass. "I think it may be good for you. The Silvan elves are very different from us, Thranduil. You may learn something from them."

"Like what?"

"They are more in touch with nature, and more wild. They like to have fun, as evidenced by the delightful party they have put together in our honor. I am sure a lady of the wood could bring you out of your shell." She accepted another goblet of wine from the servant, bidding him thanks. Laughter filled the room. The wine seemed to flow endlessly, like the Anduin.

"So, you agree with father? You think I should wed one of these people?"

She laughed. "Thranduil, you should marry whomever you want. However, I can see the wisdom of their decision. Just think about it, my son. Do not rule anything out prematurely because of any preconceived notions."

Thranduil grumbled. His mother just laughed. "Thranduil, do not concern yourself. You have plenty of time. You do not have to make any hasty choices, and no one is going to force you to do anything."

Thranduil nodded. "I suppose I can live with that. For now." He took a drink out of his freshly-filled glass, giving a nod of appreciation to the harried servant.

The night wore on. Some of the Silvan elves had drunk so much that they lay draped over the tables. Oropher had not yet returned; he stood talking to Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel.

"You know," Gwaereneth said after a while. "Your father and I were very different people when we met. He was quiet and serious and…closed. And I was not." She laughed. "People have a way of softening each other's edges, and blurring the lines between individuals. I am much more like your father now than I was when we married. And he is more like me."

Thranduil smiled at his mother, genuinely. "I only hope I am lucky enough to find a love like yours and father's."

She kissed her son's cheek. "I have no doubt."


	3. Chapter 3: The Fight

**Chapter Three: The Fight**

Thranduil awoke to the sound of birds chirping. Light streamed into his room through the thin curtains. He stretched, and rose. He walked to his window, pulling the curtains back to feel the warm sun on his face. At that moment, someone knocked as the door. "You may enter," he said.

A servant maiden brought in a tray which contained his breakfast. "Thank you," he told her. She smiled and bobbed her head before leaving the room. He sat down at his table to eat. The food was simple, but filling. He was grateful; that's exactly what he would need on a day like today.

He changed into a sage green tunic and a leather chest guard reinforced with polished steel. He pulled on a pair of boots, then strapped on matching greaves and vambraces. After he was dressed, he got his weapons together. He slung a quiver filled with arrows across his back, clipping lhugdagnir, his sword, around his waist.

As crown prince, it was his job to protect the borders and make people feel safe. He patrolled the outskirts of the southern borders with a company of elves in the hopes of stopping the orcs from gaining any more territory. So far, they hadn't run into many foes, but the forest had been growing darker lately. Thranduil got the feeling that it wouldn't stay calm for long.

He walked through the halls of the palace, down to the guard chamber. The other elves scheduled for the patrol that morning were all making final preparations. Though Thranduil was technically in charge now, he didn't feel like the other elves took him seriously. They were all older than him, and had been protecting Greenwood for decades. Centuries, even. Plus, they were all native to the forest. He was the only outsider. He certainly felt like one.

"Good morning, soldiers," Thranduil said, clasping his hands behind his back. "If you're all ready, we should leave. We have a long patrol ahead of us."

"My Lord, the captain isn't here yet," one of the elves said.

Thranduil turned to him calmly. "I believe the captain of the guard was leading a separate patrol."

"Unfortunately not," a feminine voice said behind him. "And if it is this easy to sneak up behind you, I am surprised you are still alive. The orcs have grown complacent." She crossed her arms over her chest, a snide grin on her face.

The other elves tried to hide smiles as Thranduil turned to glare at her. "Yes. Well," he said, completely unamused. "You must be the captain of the guard." He had never met her before, but the other elves whispered about her behind his back. Her reputation had certainly preceded her.

She curtseyed low, smirking. "My name is Aduial. It is a pleasure to meet you, My Lord." She straightened.

"If I'm not mistaken, the King had you heading a separate patrol."

"You are indeed mistaken," she said without missing a beat. "The King believed it would be advantageous if our companies were combined."

They stared at each other, the tension palpable. Thranduil didn't want to give up his command so lightly. He had worked hard trying to earn the elves' respect, and her presence would negate everything he'd built so far. But he could not fight against his father's express wishes, especially without just cause. His pride was not a good enough reason. He would not be childish.

He smiled as her, tipping his head. "Very well then. Now, if all the pleasantries are over, we'd better get started. We have a long day ahead of us."

"As you wish, My Lord," she said. She brushed past him, beckoning the soldiers with a wave of her hand. They followed her without question. Sighing, Thranduil joined them.

They strode through the forest, not making a sound in the underbrush. The trees were so tall and thick that not much light made it through, dappling the woods like a horse's flank. Aduial ensured that she was always in the lead. Thranduil brought up the rear. He would have to have a word with her about this later…

Her height and slender frame made her look imposing as she strode through the forest. She had braided her hair and pinned it tightly to the back of her head. The color reminded Thranduil of wrought copper.

They did not see anything for a long while. The forest was dark, and felt foreboding. All Thranduil saw was the occasional black squirrel. Well after midday, the group stopped for a water break and a quick bite to eat. They drank from pouches of fresh water they had packed with them. The natural springs and rivers could not all be trusted.

By the time they had finished, the forest had grown ever dimmer. The sun had begun to set. Looking skyward, Thranduil said, "We should probably turn back soon. There doesn't appear to be anything this far out, and it's getting late."

Aduial shot him a look. "No, we press on."

He glowered at her. "Why? There is no purpose. We will just waste time."

"Can you not feel it?" she asked with a wide gesture. "There is evil brewing here. Move out!"

Thranduil clenched his jaw, but he followed. They had not gone far when Aduial froze, holding up a hand. The soldiers halted seamlessly around her. "We are under attack," she said quietly, so that only keen elf ears could hear her.

Thranduil could see the orcs shuffling between the trees in front of them, growling at each other in their foul language. He glanced at Aduial. She looked back at him, nodding. As much as they didn't get along, he knew they would have to work together to clear this orc pack and protect their soldiers.

"Now!" he hissed, diving into the throng and whipping his sword out in an instant. Chaos exploded in the forest at that moment. Thranduil spun, slashing enemy after enemy. Orcs kept coming, but he couldn't tell from where.

He swung up into a tree, perching on a low branch. He pulled out his bow, shooting orcs from above. His soldiers were having no problem holding their own through this skirmish. Elves fight with fluidity, grace, and precision. His troops were no exception.

When Thranduil got bored of picking off orcs from afar, he jumped down into the fray. He aimed, firing an arrow between an orc's eyes. He smirked with satisfaction. Something snapped behind him. He whirled around. An orc that had been standing directly behind him fell to the ground, an arrow protruding from his chest. Aduial stared at Thranduil gravely, her bow drawn.

"This pack has cleared," Aduial said, strapping her bow across her back. "We should report back to the King immediately. Such a gathering of evil has not yet dared to venture so close to the palace, until now." She spun on her heel and disappeared into the woods before Thranduil could even say anything.


	4. Chapter 4: The Agreement

**Chapter Four: The Agreement**

Thranduil stepped out into the hallway, weary and unhappy. He had just finished his talk with Oropher. They, along with Aduial, had finally come to an agreement as to how the patrols would be run. While Oropher initially thought it best to separate the two, he told them he believed this was a divisive move. Therefore, he wanted them to cooperate and command the guard together. After this had been decided, Aduial had stormed from the room rather quickly. Thranduil had stayed behind to work out some of the logistics, but now be hoped to find Aduial and speak with her.

Aduial hadn't left quite yet, much to his relief. She paced the hall outside the throne room, looking like a caged beast. She stopped as he entered the corridor, though she didn't say anything or otherwise acknowledge his presence. Thranduil cleared his throat and approached her cautiously.

"I did not get the opportunity to thank you properly earlier," he said, his own voice sounding foreign to him. He came alongside her, though she still gazed at the floor. "So, thank you." He put a hand over his heart. "I am indebted to you."

She finally looked at him, the hint of a smile on her lips. "Well, I certainly could not have the brand-new princeling die on my watch, now could I?"

His cheeks grew warm. "I suppose not."

She turned so that her whole body faced him. She stared at him for a long while, her expression unreadable. "Walk with me, My Lord," she eventually said, turning on her heel and setting off down the hall. Thranduil followed, catching up with her.

"I have decided that your father, the King, is correct. We must combine forces from now on if we can ever hope to keep the orc scum at bay." She shot a glance at him, her features as hard and cold as carven marble. "But, I do not like it."

This did not come as a shock to Thranduil, judging from the way she had been treating him. "May I ask why it bothers you so?"

"I have served in Greenwood's guard for centuries. I have watched its borders and protected its people. I have dedicated my life to serving Greenwood the Great, My Lord." She grew louder and more impassioned with each word. Her eyes flitted to meet his. They were a deep blue, and reminded him of polished sapphires.

"And you?" she continued. "You have only just arrived. You have snatched away what I have worked so hard to earn. You have no real ties to this land or its people. But I have lived here. I have made friends with the trees and the birds. I have counted each and every star above us. I have bled and worked and suffered to preserve this place for my kin."

"Aduial." Thranduil stopped abruptly. "Be at peace," he said, noticing the tips of her ears were starting to redden. She opened her mouth as if to snap at him, but he held up a hand for silence. "I did not come here to usurp you or nullify all of your hard work. You have done a remarkable job protecting Greenwood. That is why you are the captain of the guard. No one is going to take that away from you." His tone was soft, but firm.

"You did," she spat.

He blinked. "It appears there has been a misunderstanding. I am not here to command the guard."

"Really? Because that is what it seemed like when you were leading your own patrols!"

"I am trying to guard this forest, just the same as you. I was only doing what I was told to do by my father. In any case, we are now commanding the patrol together. I know you do not like it and, quite frankly, I do not like it either. I would rather that only one of us was in charge. But no matter. My father's word is law, and he says that we are to lead the troops together."

She folded her arms over her chest. "What do you propose we do then?"

"I am not asking you to be happy about it—"

"Good, because I am not going to be."

He pretended she hadn't said anything. "However, I do not think it would be wise to be openly at odds with each other."

She lowered her arms, her features softening a little. "This is true," she said slowly. "If we fought in front of the men as we did today, it would only serve to cause division."

"They would not know who to trust or to who to obey. It would cause a split among the guards and create problems in the field," Thranduil said.

"Lives would be lost."

"Indeed. And then we will have failed in our purpose."

"We need to work as a team then, at least in front of them," Aduial said. "I acted out of selfishness earlier today, but it will not happen again. Not to your face, at least," she smirked.

"A truce, then?" Thranduil asked, offering her his hand.

She shook it. "Truce. Whether I like it or not."

"You could at least _try_ to show me some respect. I am the crown prince, after all."

"But where's the fun in that?" She laughed. "Anyway, I suppose I will see you bright and early tomorrow morning."

"You had better get used to it," he retorted, a little sick of her taunting by now.

"Unfortunately, it seems that I must." She sighed. As she walked away, she glanced over her shoulder and said, "My Lord?"

"Yes?" he asked.

"If I were you, I would be more careful on patrol in the future. I may not always be there to save your sorry skin."

He flushed. "Indeed. Good evening, Aduial."

"Good evening, My Lord," she said. They parted ways.


End file.
